After check-in, it was mandatory for the women and children to listen to a preacher for at least an hour. The first time Aria was subjected to this routine, she was struck by the sheer effort put into the man’s seemingly effortlessly dressed-down attire. As with a politician, it struck her as contrived. His dress was chosen to evoke a sense of commonality with the vagrants who stood before him every night. She could feel the self-gratification oozing through his philanthropy. As a result, the words, which made a pretense of the words of Christ, were contaminated. They were contaminated by the overwhelming feeling that, as if life had not been cruel enough to these people already, they were now all being used as pawns to guarantee someone else’s admittance into heaven. It reminded her of Mrs Johnson’s faith … A mediocre veil drawn over the reality of things to make them look better than they truly were.
At the end of the sermon, they were encouraged to gather in a circle and hold hands while the priest led them in prayer. “God, our father, let us see the kingdom come today. Forgive us of our trespasses. We know that we are sinners and cannot therefore save ourselves, but instead rely upon the mercy of your salvation. Use our problems not to cast us out, but to draw us closer to you so that we might have a saving relationship with you through your son’s redemptive work at Calvary. Give us hope in this life and the life to come that is found only in Jesus Christ. Thank you, Lord Jesus, for coming to earth. We know you to be the Son of God who died on the cross for our sins. Thank you for bearing those sins and giving us, who accept you into our hearts, eternal life. Many of your children standing here today have lost everything, but Lord God, offer them the gift of everlasting life. Where they may inherit all things. For that, and for the glory of the name I pray in, Jesus Christ amen.”
He spoke as if he was putting words in her mouth and speaking them to some presiding spirit who was either pleased and therefore merciful, or displeased and therefore vengeful. Aria felt humiliated by his words. She could not find in herself a sinner. Instead this “God” they spoke of had stood by and watched year upon year of trespasses against her. It was they that had sinned. It was they that should be asking for forgiveness. And it always struck her as odd that anyone with a life as bad as she had experienced would be asking for life to be eternal. Why not pray for life to be over? she thought to herself, waiting for the spectacle to end. She could see beyond the pretenses. She could see that the person who was most insecure in his relationship to God was the very man trying to secure everyone else’s.
After the sermon, anyone who felt ready to put their trust in Christ was welcome to step to one side of the room for their salvation. A galvanized metal utility tub that looked vaguely like a watering trough was filled daily with freshly blessed tap water. The priest would instruct any woman who was ready to commit to Christ to sit in the water, holding her left forearm with her right hand and using her left hand to pinch her nostrils closed. The baptisms were short, faith placed on a conveyor belt. The same ritualized words were yelled to the woman being baptized, as if yelling them made them more effectual.
The whole display made Aria despondent. What upset her most was that night after night, women stepped into the water with the hope that their problems might be solved. She could see it in their eyes when they sat down in the water and waited for the immanence of their baptism. The innocence would return to their faces as if they were children, suddenly brittle in their vulnerability. But Aria knew this promise, like every other, was only the promise of inevitable disappointment. A step backward instead of forward … A step that only those who had not yet accepted their ill fate would be dumb enough to take.
The women were not allowed to be at the mission during the day. This gave the volunteers time to launder and organize and clean the floors in preparation for that night’s wave of arrivals. In truth, even if it were an option, Aria would not have exercised it. She was eager to escape the tension of the impossible position that they were all placed in. So much of life being homeless, including life at the mission, was like drinking poisoned water. The impossible position of relying on someone for charity, knowing that there were conditions for that charity. It gave a whole new meaning to selling your soul.
The various religious organizations that offered help throughout the city engaged in a covert kind of parasitism with the people who needed them the most. On the one hand, like everyone else, Aria was too desperate to turn down the help. On the other hand, by accepting it, like a man who is so poor that he has no choice but to enlist in the army, she would have to consent to enlisting in God’s army. Or at least act as if she would. Of the people she encountered who had made it their mission to help people who lived on the streets, only a handful actually cared about them. For the majority of them, it was obvious that their preoccupation with the homeless was in fact a preoccupation with using them. Using them to bolster their self-concepts as good people. Using them to bedazzle their résumés. Using them as write-offs for their companies; using them to increase the head counts of
